


Two Things

by haldoor



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haldoor/pseuds/haldoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Warnings/Spoilers:</b> None<br/><b>Disclaimer:</b>  Don't own 'em; don't make any money<br/><b>Beta:</b> unbeta'd; scream if there are glaring errors<br/><b>Summary:</b> There are two things that Danny currently hates.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaige68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/gifts).



> Exchanging e-mails on a daily basis with [](http://kaige68.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kaige68.livejournal.com/)**kaige68** makes my world go around. This one's for you, babe.

Two things Danny really hates about today are the pounding headache he's currently suffering from and Steven J. McGarrett.

The first is a direct result of the second, and if he can't do something to change McGarrett's behavior soon, he knows he'll end up suffering a lot more headaches long before he can arrange a way to permanently disengage himself from the Five-0 taskforce McGarrett shanghaied him into.

Headaches he's had before, but never so many in such a short space of time, and all caused by a reckless Super-SEAL who thinks he's invincible. If he'd wait for back-up occasionally or cease resorting to explosives _before_ all else fails, perhaps Danny's headaches would come less frequently.

He sighs and closes his eyes against the back of his grotty couch, imagining himself far away from here; back in Jersey with _normal_ cops who follow procedure and know how to complete their own paperwork, instead of this lunatic who doesn't seem to know a requisition form from a ricochet.

Scratch that; he does know a ricochet. A ricochet, as Steve was at great pains to explain last week when he refused the EMT check-up for a wound caused by one such ricochet, did not normally require medical attention because there was no way it could possibly cause as much damage as Danny was implying. No, of course not, and all the blood dripping down Steve's leg from said ricochet was completely in Danny's imagination as well.

Today's disaster may not have been as bloody, but it was just as dangerous: Steve dangling off a crane some fifty feet in the air while the drug-fueled perp he'd followed up there tried to stomp on his hands. If it hadn't been for Kono's acrobatic stunt behind the guy – which in all honesty was almost as lunatic as Steve's initial maneuver that caused the whole heart-stopping scene – wherein she somehow managed to knock the guy out _without_ sending him plunging the said fifty feet to his almost-certain death, Steve would probably be hell of a sight bloodier – and deader – than the ricochet had made him.

And that didn't even take into account where Danny's heart had been while the two of them carried the unconscious perp down from up there. Jesus, much more of this and Danny would be medically retired about twenty years too early due to the continual elevation of his heart rate.

"Here." A deep rumble and the sinking of the couch to one side of him indicates the presence of the madman himself.

Danny cracks his eyes wide enough to see the beer Steve's holding in front of him, and the concern in hazel-blue eyes behind that.

"How do you manage to do that?" he mutters, swiping the beer and gulping from the bottle. He already feels better, although it can't possibly last.

"Do what?" Steve still looks concerned as his eyes roam over Danny's face, but there is confusion mixed in now.

"Make me forgive you without even apologizing."

A light huff of amusement chases away the confusion, and Steve's way-too-long eyelashes dip as he gazes at his own beer before tipping it up to swallow a healthy measure.

"You could have died out there today, Steven. And you know what went through my head?"

Steve tilts an eyebrow in query.

"How I was going to explain to Grace why you would do something foolish enough to cause your own death before you'd taken her to see the penguins this weekend. You promised her."

"So it's okay if I kill myself next week?"

"If you must."

Steve laughs properly this time, and then nods thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind, Danno."

"Don't call me… why do I even bother?"

Steve shrugs, grinning at him lopsidedly. "It'd be easier if you didn't."

"Easier for who?"

"For you. I'm probably just going to ignore you, anyway."

Danny rolls the cold bottle across his forehead and then takes a swallow from it. "Oh, that's novel, coming from you."

"Novel?"

"You said _probably_. I've yet to see you do so much as pause in your complete ignoring of me."

"I told you it'd be easier if you didn't bother."

Danny sighs and rolls the bottle across his forehead again.

"Headache bad?"

"On a scale of one to ten? With one being tiny feet tap-dancing lightly on my skull and ten being you acting like you always do, it's an eleven."

Steve doesn't say anything, and Danny squints at the expression he can't get a read on. "What?"

Steve shrugs and looks away, swallowing more beer.

"You could offer to find the Advil."

Those soulful eyes turn back to Danny and Steve swallows, looking slightly embarrassed before he answers. "You probably shouldn't take them when you're drinking."

"You gave me the beer."

"You didn't have to take it."

Danny knows this argument isn't going anywhere, and while he would normally push it just to see what Steve will say, he's too tired to bother, and he's pretty sure there's something Steve's holding back; the pointless argument is just a deflection.

"You can say it, you know," he says instead.

"Say what?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking."

"Thinking? I'm not thinking anything." But the way Steve's avoiding Danny's eyes says he's thinking _something_ , though Danny still isn't sure what it could be.

"So you coming inside with me tonight was just to have a beer with me?" Danny asks, not making any attempt to meet Steve's eyes himself. "Not because you were worried I'd collapse from a post-incident heart-attack or something?"

In his peripheral vision, Danny sees Steve chew his lip, so he stays quiet, drinking more as he lets Steve decide how much he's willing to admit.

"I could tell you were annoyed with me," Steve gets out, his voice low. His eyes are on his beer bottle, which he's playing with nervously, and Danny turns his head slightly, marveling again at just how long his eyelashes are. No man should have eyelashes like that; it's positively distracting. "I don't… I…" Steve stops, clears his throat, and then lifts his eyes to meet Danny's. "I'm sorry."

Danny cups an ear, feigning hearing loss. "You may have to repeat that. I could swear you just apologized to me, but that never happens, so I must be imagining things."

Steve has the good grace to look embarrassed, though he smiles softly, a fondness in his eyes that Danny's been seeing more of lately, to his surprise – and even more amazingly, to his pleasure. "I really am sorry, Danny. I didn't mean to worry you today."

Danny can barely do anything but smile back at him, his headache forgotten.

~//~


End file.
